Defiled One
by Little Red Writing Wolf
Summary: Mercury Black is an assassin. That is clear to see. But how did he become one? How was his childhood and character shaped and molded by the man who lived in the mountains - his father - Marcus Black? Is he really just a cynical douchebag? Or is he something else entirely?
1. Chapter 1 - The King and His Men

**Chapter 1/The King and His Men.**

Mercury peeked over the small, wooden table; his curiosity directed at the strange, checkerboard resting under little figures. He had seen his father sitting in the chair and moving the pieces around many times before. Sometimes he would even move them off to the side where they would stay until the game ended.

Mercury knew that the different shaped pieces moved in different patterns. But he didn't know why. When he was really little he remembers getting hurt if he went near it or touched anything. His father would tell him that he might break or lose something. His father always instructed Mercury to not bother him when he was "Strategizing".

The boy wasn't exactly sure what that meant. He was only seven after all, and Marcus didn't like it when Mercury asked stupid questions. But Mercury figured it had something to do with his father's job.

He was getting better at guessing and blue and purple didn't paint his skin quite so much. He learned differently from most children his age within the walls of the secluded house. It was a whirlwind of calculations and tests and hoping against hope that he didn't make a mistake.

The floor creaked behind him and Mercury flinched away from the table. Quickly checking everything over to make sure he hadn't accidentally jostled anything out of place. He could feel the dark presence of his father behind him but he remained frozen. Hoping his father would say something. At least give him a warning before the pain. Finally the man spoke and he froze, his shoulders stiffening.

"What do you think you're doing boy?"

Mercury's lips began to fumble but he caught himself and made sure his words were pronounced clearly. His father didn't accept stuttering. It was a sign of weakness. "I was just looking. I'm sorry sir." Mercury turned and found his father's eyes. The man had his arms crossed and a look on his face the young boy had rarely seen. Consideration? Oh no… but what was he considering?

Panic rose in his chest and he dug his fingernails into his palms

"It won't happen again, I swear." He added quickly as he began to make his way around his father. Maybe if he removed himself from his dad's sight then Marcus wouldn't punish him and simply start his little game at the table. As long as he was occupied with those strange little pieces the world would continue to turn.

"Stop."

_Shit. _

The world stopped on its axis and Mercury stilled. His hands trembled by his sides and he clenched his eyes shut. He was most definitely going to get a beating for this. He had hoped that since his dad wasn't drunk right now that maybe he could escape it just this once. But he was wrong. As usual.

"Sit down."

_What?_

He looked over his shoulder and watched his dad pull out one of the chairs at the table; the man's gesture was clear. Not wanting to push his luck he swiftly crossed back across the room and completed his father's instruction. He kept his form small and his hands tucked under his thighs as he locked onto his father's form.

He wasn't sure what was going to happen. This was different. It didn't fit his father's pattern and that scared him.

His dad walked around the table and sat down in the empty chair on the other side. Mercury looked at the board and noticed the matching pattern of the figures. One set was black and the other was white, but each different shaped thing mirrored the opposite color across the board. Except for the bigger middle pieces, he found. They were switched places.

He felt his father's eyes on him and he lifted his gaze.

"This board, is a battleground." His father began and every ounce of Mercury's attention was held fast to Marcus's words. It wasn't long before Marcus was done explaining the names of the pieces and rules of the game. Mercury had listened determinedly and tried to convert as much of it to memory as possible. He knew it was unlikely that his dad would waste time on explaining it again.

"Now, I want you to pay very close attention." Mercury was slightly disappointed when his father started playing the game by himself. This was clearly a two person game and he really wanted to try. But, his father had a firm look on his face that meant there was something more happening than just him playing a single game of chess. He watched as his father moved each piece in their particular way. Sometimes he moved them quickly as if he had known beforehand what plays were planned out and had already mapped out the actions. Other's he hesitated for a moment and tilted his head from side to side until he made a decision.

Mercury found the unsure look in his father's eyes strange, the man acted like he was guessing where the piece should be rather than making a calculated decision. Was the game really that much harder than it looked? He didn't think so and as he watched the actions become more confident and the pieces spread out across the board he was sure it was quite a simple game to understand.

Two opposing sides; one black, one white - each dancing around in battle.

Finally Marcus spoke again as he moved all but eight pieces to the side of the board. "These ones aren't relevant at the moment."

Mercury let his eyes linger on the irrelevant pieces for a moment, wondering why they didn't matter like the others still fixed firmly on the board.

In the left corner of the board sat four remaining white pieces. The rook was still unmoved on the black square 1, A. Two pawns stood on white tiles in row 2; One on A and one on C. And finally in between and behind them nestled the King, on the white tile 1, B.

The four black pieces were a little more spread out, almost flanking the white ones into the corner. A rook was on a black tile in row 1, E. The knight was also on a black tile. It was several squares in front of the king in 4, B. Lastly, two pieces huddled next to each other the farthest away - a Bishop on 5, E and a pawn on 5, F.

"See, the king has mistakenly blocked himself in. His only power piece is useless and trapped, and his current threat is this rook over here." The man gestured to the rook with a calloused finger."His only option will be to move forward, but he'll be hesitant because there's this knight right here." He picked up the piece about a quarter of an inch and shook it lightly before placing it back down. "The knight currently isn't in any position to hurt him, but it could still take out one of his pawns. He's foolish and afraid. So, as the rook pushes him up, he'll stop here." Marcus moves the king up to the black tile in front. It now sits on 2, B. "He'll think he's safe there. But, he won't realize he just put himself right in the line of fire…" He slides the bishop at an angle all the way to the king and knocks it over before leaving the bishop on 2, B and picking up the king. In his fingers he holds up the fallen white figure. A smile touches his lips and his eyes glint dangerously.

Mercury takes everything in as the silence causes something eerie to fill the room. His eyes leave his father's hand and lands on the lone black pawn on the white tile. He wonders what value it held and what part it would have played since it wasn't in the 'irrelevant' pile.

Marcus dropped the king and it rolled a little ways before coming to rest on its side.

The chair screeched as his father scooted it back and stood. "I have to go take care of some things. I'll be back late so there'll be no sparring for this evening."

A puzzled look fell across the boy's face and he tested questions in his own head for a reasonable one to ask. "What do you want me to do instead?"

"Get everything that needs to be taken care of with the house done, then you can practice your routines. I expect you to work on your naeryeo chagi. You're still sloppy at it."

There. Marcus's insult caused him to fall back into the character Mercury was familiar with. This person was familiar and he could predict what would happen, unlike his father's off display of actions earlier.

He couldn't believe he had managed interacting this long with his father without getting hit or his hair pulled. And to top it off he wouldn't even have to subject to a training match with his father. He had quickly learned to despise his spars with the man as they always ended with bruises or broken bones. He would definitely work on his Muay Thai though and do his best to perfect his kick and make his father proud.

He smiled softly to himself as he found himself alone in the room and picked up the lone black pawn. His heart began beating wildly at the thought of the man coming back and being angry. But, for once he was in luck as he rolled the figurine gently in his small fingers.

Maybe his life had turned a corner and things would be better. Maybe his father was starting to recognize him as a human. Maybe he could actually do something to make the man proud. Maybe he could find a purpose.

He fell asleep later that night under covers much too thin and an even thinner smile traced itself across his lips. For the first time in his short life he was almost looking forward to seeing his father come morning.

* * *

"Get up, we're leaving in five."

Mercury jolted awake at the rough shove his shoulder received. A small cry escaping his lips before he fell back into reality. After a beat of sitting there he rubbed his eyes to rid them of the sleep. What was going on? He glanced at the clock and mumbled under his breath. It was 2:37 in the morning.

He slid his legs over to the side of the bed and stood up to stretch, his hand habitually running through his silver hair.

"Where are we going?" He found the courage to ask as he put his boots on.

"I'm going out to complete a contract. And you're coming along."

After hours of following his father through hills and forests in the dark - Mercury began to fear they would never stop. Twice Marcus had told him that they would have to go the long way around a passage because of bandits, and Mercury wondered what a confrontation with them would be like.

Probably bloody. He decided.

Finally Marcus stopped at the base of what looked to be an abandoned watch tower at the edge of an old huntsmen outpost. It wasn't big or fancy, and it held a ghostly presence. It was cracked and crumbling and just like everything else in this godforsaken world; in ruins. A nagging thought wondered if Grimm would eventually destroy all of humanity in the world. Mercury didn't get the chance to dwell on it any longer as his father picked the door locks and opened it. He knew his father was planning on teaching him how to lock pick soon and it was something he actually looked forward to for once. It wasn't violent in nature like his other training and he didn't see how it could hurt.

The boy shuffled after his father and followed closely as they climbed the spiral steps up to the top. The sounds of crickets dying behind them as they got higher and higher. His eyes wandered cautiously towards the weapon his father held in his hand. It looked like some sort of modified sniper rifle but Mercury had seen it turn into other things. Marcus had several different weapons. Knives, pistols, rifles, even a few swords. But whenever he went out on a job his most common choice was his rifle. 'Semper Fi' was written across it in red letters and he wondered if he would be able to ask his father what it meant one day.

They reached the end of the stairs and were met with an open, round room with windows on all sides and a domed roof. Most of the glass was busted out or cracked. Pieces of glass littered the floor and they took care of where they stepped. Without a word Marcus knelt beside a shattered pane and shouldered his rifle. Mercury crouched down and awaited command. His father seemed to be sighting in on something, without moving the man spoke. His voice wasn't whispered like Mercury had been expecting but it was disturbingly level and calm.

"You remember that scope I told you to bring?"

Mercury nodded before realizing that Marcus wasn't looking at him, he recovered quickly and tried to copy the tone of his father's voice. "Yeah, I have it right here." He took it out of his pocket carefully.

"Good. You see that wall at the other side of the base? The one with all the vines?"

Mercury crept up next to his father and looked through the sights. He could see the wall very clearly, even the tiny vines weaving into the breaks of concrete. Before Mercury could give his father affirmation the man continued. "Look to the far left of it by the road that leads into the woods. Now in about two minutes we're going to get a little visitor coming up that path."

At his father's words a twisting feeling of dread crawled into the pit of Mercury's stomach. He wasn't a stupid boy despite his lack of education. He understood that when his father came home with blood covering his knives or hands that whatever his father did for a job it involved killing.

Mercury counted the seconds as neither one of them moved a muscle. And although his legs began to cramp and spike with pain the moment he went to move into a more comfortable position something came into view through his optics and he forgot about the pain. Sure enough, as the two minute mark rang out in his head his father had been true to his word. Every fiber of his body zeroed in on the three figures coming up the path. The middle guy rode on a horse while the other two walked. He was clothed in white and grey robes and held himself high as he conversed with the others. He frowned sourly as he wished he could hear them.

"They're talking about the bandits following their trail about a day behind."

Mercury pulled his eye away to look at his father in disbelief.

"Learn how to read people's lips and you won't look so stupid all the time." The comment stung but Mercury would definitely make a point to do that now. He resumed watching the strange men, this time focusing on their mouths to try and see if he could catch anything. The words he sorted out were very few and far between and he wasn't even sure if it was accurate, but he was trying.

'More', 'up ahead', or maybe it was more bread? No that was retarded. It had to be the first. 'Stop', 'here', '_band aids?' _No. something different. 'bandits'.

Maybe there were more bandits up ahead?

Something told him deep in the back of his mind that his guess was correct and he furrowed his eyebrows. A sense of deja vu caused a headache to throb behind his eyes.

Then several things happened within a very short time.

The shot was quiet due to the suppressor on the end of the barrel but he still picked out the sound before it stopped in the middle guy's head. It caused Mercury to jump. His vision was splashed with red even from so far away and the two men at the white clad man's side yelled and exploded in surprise and fear.

The boy's eyes were wide as he watched the man slide from his horse and slump onto the ground to never move again.

The stranger never even had time to activate his aurra.

He never had the slightest inkling that he had rode right into his death.

The thought that life could be ended so abruptly and easily churned sourly in Mercury's bones. He had never seen someone be killed before. He knew his mother had died giving birth to him and his father placed the blame on him, but he didn't remember that.

But this. This he was sure he'd never forget.

"Come on. Those two will attract grimm. We gotta move. Quietly and quickly unless you want to get yourself killed." With that his father stood and made his exit, but not before picking up his single shell.

Mercury went home that night with chills racking his body. The coldness of his father's actions scared him. Over time he would learn that this particular job was solely business and had been requested to be clean and quick. He found out that the man his father had killed was a delegator between cities, he had pissed off some bad names and a hit had been placed on him.

There were other types of gigs too. Personal ones that Marcus worked that involved more hand to hand combat and knives. He found his father to be very particular to knives when leveling grudges. Sometimes he was paid to make examples out of people. And sometimes they didn't care how, just that it was effective. And when it came to Marcus, it always was.

In a relatively short time this event would be marked as one of the easiest hits. Not two years later his father had him pulling the trigger. Close enough that blood splattered across his face and stained his soul.

Mercury learned from a very young age that nothing was ever checkerboard black and white - it was grey. Some areas were darker grey. And most were coated in crimson.

He was just a child. An entity with the potential of life. But his father specialized in removing life. And the assassin had only just begun to twist the boy's fate.

When Mercury was seven he witnessed the first murder he would remember. Marcus had taken a paintbrush dripping in red and covered the eyes of his son.

Mercury was a tainted one.

* * *

**Hey! So this is my first story to post and I'm still figuring things out. I've had this story in my head for a while and decided I needed to get it out here for y'all. Since we have yet to see anything else besides a corpse **

**of Marcus Black and some comments here and there from Mercury (plus some of his reactions to certain things), I am doing my best to write Marcus how I see him in my head. I'm sure all of you know that having one **

**thing in your head and trying to convert it into words and onto a page isn't so simple.. But, bear with me here. I have a very busy life and am dealing with 6120 things at once, but I'm hoping not to let you down. **

**If you like the story please comment! It rocks my sad little world. And if you didn't please let me know why and how I can improve. I am young and have no beta so I am open to advice.**

**I hope y'all have a wonderful day.**

**Peace Out.**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Rook by the River

**Chapter 2/ The Rook by the River. **

Marcus wasn't the man he used to be. In fact 'man' had even become an easily dismissed description. He was more of a monster; a machine. Someone who has only ever known one way to live and that was to cause others to die. It came natural to him. Like a babe calling for its mother.

He was born strong. Skilled. But, as soon as he unlocked his semblance he suddenly felt weak. Everyone around him had something valuable. Something that gave them a great advantage in battles. But he didn't have anything to aid him at all. He couldn't electrocute people with his hands, he wasn't able to make copies of himself, he didn't have the ability to control the wind. His only tool against others was his bare self.

When Marcus first unlocked his semblance he had been pissed. Disappointed. He felt as if he had been stripped of something worthy. As if the gods had pointed at him with mocking grins and told him that of all the fools in the world he had been their favorite to toy with.  
He hated himself... Until the day he realized with a glint of fire in his eyes that what he saw as a faulty semblance was by far the greatest gift he could have ever received. Because he could _take._

He could make everyone just. Like. Him.

It was common knowledge that you used your semblance when you wanted to win or survive a fight, and as he observed great warriors he recognized that even the mightiest relied on their semblance rather than actual skill. So he trained. He trained and honed his natural skills until his opponents couldn't beat him without their gifts. And when they went to abuse their power – he stole it from them.

Each great fighter just as confused as the last as a sinister grin crept onto his face before he used the strength he had worked so hard for to deplete their auras. Their eyes growing in sudden fear before fading to resignation, and then fading completely as their bodies began to grow cold from death's embrace.

That power he held so easily in his hands as he knocked them off of their high horse was invigorating. He enjoyed stripping them of something they misused so casually. He enjoyed knowing that despite their gifts he would always be stronger. He would always be in control.  
And he was.

Until he wasn't. And the first life he cared about living slipped through his grasp. Leaving him nothing to remember her by but a son whom he saw responsible for her death.

Because while Marcus may have been forced into the life of a murderer, his son was _born_ one. Babies, of course, are blameless in reality. But in his eyes, his child took a soul from the world the very moment he was brought into it.

The boy Marcus was raising –though that word was relative- held none of his love. Mercury was nothing but a potential tool Marcus could use. A weapon he could hand shape and carefully craft.

Thus was why Mercury was currently in the middle of the forest face to face with a beowolf.

He's eight years old and he's scared shitless. But, he's not alone. No. what kind of father would Marcus be –if not the worst one in history- if he didn't leave his only child without a modified cleaver over half of his size and weight. Mercury can barely lift the damn thing much less swing it with enough accuracy to kill the grimm.

He breathes deeply and tells himself to stay calm. He knows panicking will just attract more grimm and he's not sure how to handle even one at the moment. So, he borders on feeling like caged electricity as his nerves scream about the danger that he already is aware of.

The creature let out a growl that vibrated his bones and caused him to tense in preparation. He backed up slowly; white, bloodless knuckles laced tightly around the handle. The beast launched forward violently with claws made for shredding meat from bones and teeth glinting with malicious promise.

He dodged and rolled; abandoning his weapon in trade for agility.  
The child can feel death nipping at his heels as he clambers up a cluster of rocks. Once he's at the top he's got nowhere to go but the opposite side.

Because he was great at making choices lately. As quickly as he can manage Mercury stumbles his way down. Ankles testing his anxiety as they give way to rolling rocks. He manages to stay on his feet and hits the solid ground with thankfulness. The grimm took a shortcut and simply leaped from the pile.

Despite all his effort, he had made zero time. Absolutely none. His stomach turned with sickness.

Marcus always told him to use his head. But, at the moment he was pretty sure he didn't own one. He felt like a dog without a horse. Completely wild and incompetent.

He turned sharply to the side holding the best idea he had in his mind and hid behind a tree. Of course, the branches on this particular tree were much too high for him to climb so he looked around for a different advantage.

The sun was setting over the mountains and he would soon be faced with darkness. He was running out of time.

He bolted from his cover as soon as the beowolf rounded the tree. Bushes and thorns scraped at his legs until a root that hated his existence caused him to crash to the earth below. He twisted onto his back just in time to realize he was officially out of time.

A panicked yelp flew from his mouth as the beast took the opportunity to clamber over his prone form. Saliva fell from its nasty maw onto his face and he scrunched his features up tightly.

The grimm went to bite at his face and he swiftly rolled to the side, a hand reaching up in blind hope to grasp at one of the white spikes protruding from the creature tar colored fur. His fingers found purchase and he hoisted himself onto the monster's back.

His mind screeched that this was _not_ an improvement as the beowolf roared and twisted beneath him like a bucking bull from hell.

In a moment of relative easy writhing from the beast he rose to his feet and jumped onto the branch he was now tall enough to reach.

Note to self: when you are too short to climb a tree - briefly enlist the help of a man-eating monster that the devil probably keeps as a lapdog.

Arms slipping as he struggled his form over the limb he finally hoisted a leg over, narrowly avoiding the grimm's claws as it turned on him.  
He scaled up one limb higher just in case and took a deep breath. Now he had to think as he watched the beast circle and jump at the tree he was in; wanting nothing more than to rip his head from his body and feast.

His legs trembled at the thought of him accidentally slipping.  
_'Come on… it's one little grimm. That was the only task I have to complete. Just this one… little… guy..'_

He moved into a more stable position and jerked back as the beowolf jumped at him. It fell short and growled in frustration at the delay of its supper.

_'Mood.'_

It wasn't that Mercury didn't have any ideas. In fact, he had dozens. It just so happened that none of them were good ideas.

Then again just moments ago he literally used the creature trying to kill him as a stepping stool.

Metal glinted in the corner of his eye and he stared at the cleaver abandoned on the forest floor. He couldn't swing it much. But, it was still far from useless.

The only problem was getting to it. He would have to be fast. He broke off a smaller branch from the tree and tossed it as hard as he could in the opposite direction before letting his body free fall to the ground. The shock jolted up his spine and he tried to ignore the pain as he sprinted towards the blade.

He reached it moments before the grimm found itself fooled and started towards him.

Just because he had his hands wrapped around the hilt didn't mean he had won. He realized this as a burning streak tore down his back. He turned and fell backward, arms holding the cleaver up and head twisted down to protect his face.

He heard the growl fade into a cry and felt the weight of the beast fall heavy against him. It wasn't long before the weight too faded away as the remnants of the grimm disappeared into the air.  
It was almost like the creature never existed. Almost. The slash across his back was pretty good evidence and he let out a mewl as he sat up.

He didn't activate his aura because he hadn't unlocked it. Marcus thought that he would value it more and use it wiser if he learned what it meant to live without it for a while. To realize how easily mistakes happen.

Mercury was pretty sure he mostly wanted him to acquire scars to remind him of his mistakes. So, the man should be thoroughly pleased with how things turned out.

Mercury hated his dad a little as he sat there and waited. Hands clenching from the pulsing pain emitting like a current of white-hot flames from his back.

It wasn't long before the echoes of claps caused Mercury to turn his head to his left. Out of the shadows of the dark trees, one moved forward, walking slowly until it formed into a man. Marcus smiled in the moonlight. His eyes were dimly lit embers and Mercury knew that despite the applause it didn't quite meet his standards.

"Now, why didn't you do that right away?"

His voice was cold and felt infinite in the quiet of the woods. Mercury lowered his head, knowing what his father was referring to. Why didn't he just kill the grimm when he first ran into it instead of fleeing? Why did he take so long to think about how to kill it? Why was he such a failure?

"I had to think."

Mercury winced when he realized how unconfident and whiny the words came out.

"You had to what now?"

"I had to think, sir." He forced defiance into his lungs.

Marcus seemed to be contemplating something and he shook his head before speaking again.

"Get up. We need to get back to the house so we can fix the mess you made of your back."

Silver hair fell over his eyes as he dug his hands into the dirt. Fingers twisting as the turmoil within him boiled. The pain radiating from his back sparked contempt and he willed himself up to follow after the man; mouth set firmly and eyes dangerously vacant.

* * *

A small crack runs down the center of the board and veers off to the left, splintering at the edge. The set is old, worn. A white bishop is missing the small knob at its head, a black knight lacks a single ear, a black king - his crown  
Mercury watches from afar as his father moves pieces here and there, forming around the crack he is seemingly indifferent to. Mercury thinks it looks like a stream flowing through the forest of figurines. The pieces acting as trees rising from the earthy ground. It reminds him of the one not far behind their house.

He turns back to his task at hand and continues to field strip a shotgun his father had used just yesterday.  
It was a rare choice for his father's taste and it leads him to wonder about the nature of the contract. Perhaps something slightly personal.

He hadn't gone with that time. Marcus didn't ask for him to go along, and he didn't volunteer. Instead, he had spent the day washing the few dishes they had, practicing his training, and dangling his legs in the stream. It had been a good day. Mostly because it was the first time Marcus allowed him to stay home without locking him in the small closet that lead off of the living room.

Of all the things in his life he ever hated, he hated that the most. From ages three to eight it had been his personal hell whenever his father would leave for a mission. Marcus would never tell him how long he would be away for. Sometimes it was just a few hours. Sometimes it bordered on two days and he would cry and soil himself. The first few years of it were the worst. But, by the time he was six he was used to it. Well, as used to it as he could possibly get.

That's the thing about children; they're resilient, adaptable.

Even to things they should never have to be.

Of course, that doesn't mean it didn't royally screw with his mental health – but he survived. He learned to spend the hours sleeping, or occupying himself by finding different ways to keep time. If it was raining the roof would leak ever so slightly in the corner, and he would listen to the falling droplets pooling on the floor beneath him. If it was sunny he would lay down facing the door and watch the sliver of gold light coming through the bottom fade into night.

He learned to hate being still. Learned to hate waiting. But, as long as his father's shadow loomed over his soul he would keep his complaints to himself.

His back was still healing from the incident with the beowolf two weeks prior. It ached and his shirt caught on the sloppily sewn stitches; pulling and stretching at the skin that was beginning to itch.  
The wound had kept him from practicing certain fighting techniques his father had wanted him to work on, thus resulting in a thick air of tension through the house. Mercury knew it wouldn't be long before the man had him back sparring full force. It wouldn't matter if he was healed or not.

He swept his eyes across the living room and stopped at the window that faced the mountains. They were jagged and big and dark. The setting sun filtered through the glass and revealed tiny dust particles floating in the air. It made it seem like the window was the only place the pollution fell. It was funny how a little light changed one's perspective.  
A cloud blew across the sky lazily; effectively cutting off the light for several moments before it passed along its way.

He finished wiping down all of the metal on the shotgun with an oily rag and began to reassemble it.

"When you've finished I want you to take a look at some of the books I brought home."

Marcus's voice sounded loud in the room's air and it caused Mercury to jolt a little. Then again his voice always sounded loud. Like a king who knew his place in a room of squires.

The words processed and he remembered seeing a stack of books by the front door earlier. Those must be the ones he's talking about.

"Yes, sir." He responded, voice steady before he stood up from the floor. Shotgun in hand. He stretched a little and heard a pop from his back as his legs tingle from fresh circulation.  
"Uh-." He caught himself and though his voice lacked confidence, he didn't stutter. "What are they?"

"Some curriculum from the library I borrowed. Most kids your age go to school so that they can learn basic concepts. If you apply yourself and study you won't be so far behind everyone else." Marcus moved a white rook near the crack in the board and muttered under his breath. "Having a retarded kid reflects badly on me."

Several thoughts whirled through the boy's head. First off, 'borrowed'? No. Marcus didn't borrow things. He simply took them if he wanted to.  
Second, it still meant that the man had gone into a library and the mental image of that transaction was actually kind of disturbing. He hoped the people who worked there were all still alive and well.  
And lastly, it wasn't his fault Marcus was a sociopath and chose to isolate him in the mountains. He had never even met a kid his age and had only gone into the cities and towns a handful of times. Which he wasn't sure even counted because it was mostly underground or back alleys.

Retarded.

Mercury walked across the wooden floor and leaned the shotgun against the corner by the closet. A chill wove its way up his spine as he passed the door but he continued to the kitchen. Eyes already planted on the bag by the door.

Mercury spent the next hour at the kitchen table thumbing through the five books that his father had brought home. He enjoyed working through some of the math and science, but reading and grammar didn't click quite as well, he spent most of the time trying to keep himself from doodling on the little pictures that were illustrated across the paper. It was tempting, but he wasn't sure his father would be too happy with him if he did, so he kept his pencil where it was meant to be.

He had just started to close each book up when the clock rang out five times. He slid each one back into the bag and carried them to his room where he set it beside his bed.

He didn't linger in his room. There was nothing in there for him. No toys. No games. Even his dresser was bare save for a few changes of clothes. But it was normal. It was the only thing he knew. All kids' rooms were like this. All kids feared their father.

He returned to the kitchen to start supper. Marcus had told him earlier that he wanted chili. That was relatively simple to make. The recipe was in a book in the cabinet. He knew it pretty well but he got it and opened it up just in case.

The only thing he knew about it was that it was his mother's. The book was worn and she had handwritten notes here and there; perfecting the recipes. He found the page that said blue moon chili across the top and set it gently on the counter. The recipe had a long ingredient list but several things could easily be left out, he was pretty sure his father's tastebuds were jacked up anyways. He got out the pot from a cabinet and started laying out the ingredients.

Supper was quiet as always that evening. The only words spoken owned by Marcus when he told Mercury that he could begin eating. Everything in the boy's life was controlled by his father. When he ate, what he ate, when he went to sleep, when he woke up, what he did. His entire world was constructed and molded by the assassin. A well-trained dog on a leash.

But, there was one thing Marcus couldn't control: Mercury's thoughts.

And though as a child he was still submissive and easily led by his father, faint tendrils of doubt and disdain had already started weaving their way into his fearful mind. Thoughts turning more aggressive. More snarky. An animal being backed against a wall.

He ate his chili with hard-set eyes and a hand that gripped the spoon a little too tightly.

* * *

It was two days later when he saw his father standing by the chess set again. The man moved the remaining black pawn to the square two spaces in front of the rook.  
"We're heading out soon."

Mercury set his book down and rubbed his eyes. He had started using the dictionary his father kept on the shelf when he studied as he didn't know half of the words he came across. Although, sometimes the dictionary just provided another word he didn't understand as an answer. But, at least he was trying.

They traveled through several small villages. Places where the streets were lined with sickness and poverty. Where starving children watched in mute as they passed by like ghosts. No one looked Marcus in the eye.

Unconsciously he walked closer to the killer as a group of men leaning against shacks twirled shiny blades. The midday sun glinted off the silver and Mercury couldn't help but wonder how many lives they had stolen.

How many lives had his father stolen?

Did he even want to know?

They spent three hours walking into the evening. They were deep in the forest and the air was filled with crickets and light snapping of trigs beneath their feet. A new sound reached his ears and Marcus immediately held his hand up in signal to stop. Mercury halted with a sharp inhale. Silently thankful that he had been able to see the gesture in the sound of running water registered and he held his breath.

"You're gonna keep walking straight towards the river. There'll probably be a campfire around there. You'll know the next phase of the plan when you do."

_NO?!_

Was the only thing Mercury could think of before Marcus disappeared off to his left.

Not knowing what the hell he was supposed to do in the next phase of the plan, he focused on his first order. Walk forwards. It seemed simple enough.

He wasn't sure if he needed to be quiet in his steps or not, but, considering his father had basically just told him to walk into the target's camp it didn't matter. The closer he got to the sound of rushing water the more uneasiness stirred in his gut. The fire lit the area around it in a warm glow and he watched as it licked towards the sky like a living animal; growling in crackles and pops. He was close enough now that he could feel the warmth lighting his face.

_'Okay… the next phase… what is it? Do I have to look for it? Will he give me a signal?... What do I do?!'_

His internal questions were answered suddenly when he felt the blade of a knife press into his throat.

He froze as the person wrapped one arm around his torso, effectively pinning both of his arms while his head was pressed into the person's chest via the threat of the blade.

_'Oh.'_

"Whatcha doing out here boy?" The stranger slurred as he tightened his hold.

Mercury didn't answer. His initial fear from being held with a knife to his throat faded to mild disappointment. Him being held hostage and in immediate danger was apparently phase two and he was definitely not happy with it.

He didn't have to deal with the inconvenience for long though as someone grabbed onto the stranger's wrist and twisted it until he was forced to let the knife fall dumbly from his hand.

"Garrison."

Marcus's voice was cold and when he came into view the target's face filled with horror. He knew who he was. Or at the very least, knew what he does.  
Mercury stumbled away and out of danger as the two began fighting. Each with their diversely crafted style of hand to hand combat.

The target - Garrison - furrowed his eyebrows as his panting picked up. He was trying to activate his semblance. He couldn't. Once he realized this, he tried to reach down and retrieve his knife. Marcus only kicked it further away and delivered more damaging blows.

It wasn't long before a kick from his father caused a wave of candy apple red splintered around Garrison before he hit the ground with a cry. His fists digging into the dirt in desperation.

Marcus walked over to him calmly and Mercury held his breath where he stood next to a tree.

As the flames of the fire painted shadows across the ground where his father stepped a monster emerged. The man placed a boot across his contract's throat and pushed down with a shift of weight.

Mercury heard the faint wheezes of the doomed man before a soft crunch; watched as his hands that were curled in his last attempts to hold onto his life fell limp on the soft forest floor.

The assassin turned away from the body with no emotion. Nodding once at his son in silent acknowledgment.

They walked home in silence. Mercury replaying the entire fight over and over again in his head.

He laid in his bed with an aching back and tired eyes that night. Wondering about his future. About the monster in the next room. He didn't think he wanted to be a killer when he grew up. He didn't think he wanted to decide who lived and died unless he had to.

But as the months went by, he became more and more aware that he wasn't going to have a choice.  
He felt like a puppet; strings tied to his limbs, pulling and tugging at his essence. His identity. Did he even have an identity?

Or was he just the shadow of his father? The man who lived in the mountains.

Mercury is eight.

Born in a nightmare.

A murderer's son.

* * *

**So... what did y'all think? Each and every review brought a smile to my face as I read them. You have no idea how much your two cents mean to me. I'm still trying to find ways to flush this character out and explore his personality as well as his father's. Kerry has said that he has one of the darkest backstories and I can't wait to see what they show of it in the up coming volumes. I just hope they don't compromise his character and value any more than they already have. **

**For Mercury's playlist I've currently been listening to a lot of Radiohead. Especially their song Creep because it makes me think of him for some reason. **

**Also, listen to the song I'm The One. It's about Mercury and Emerald and is the inspiration for what I named this book.**

**I hope you mortals are enjoying it so far.**

**Peace out.**


	3. Chapter 3 - The Queen in Her Bed

**Chapter 3/The Queen in Her Bed**

Glass is used for many things in our everyday lives. It's transparent, so the eye might say it hides nothing. When really as jagged edges of reality slice through the day, one can see that it is so, so deceitful. It's such a fragile thing; cracking and shattering like crystal tears. But, one must always beware.

Because one way or another – It always ends up covered in blood. Glass is sharp. Glass is capable of shredding flesh from bone all while being delicate and beautiful in its design.

Shards of glass are imbedded into the wall as the impact of a beer bottle reacts like an explosion. Mercury flinches and drops his head. Eyes lifting up to look at his father in fear.

Marcus must have been really drunk; otherwise Mercury would have been the ten point target Marcus had been aiming for.

"You monster." He sneers with a finger pointing to his son before he stumbles off to the table and sits down heavily.

He reaches to his back pocket and pulls out a picture, torn and tattered and faded like hazy memories of dreams. A beautiful woman with bright blue eyes smiles back from the paper; a ghost of the past.

Mercury's heart beats quickly as he presses the back of his head against the wall. He swallows and lets his eyes fall closed for a moment.

Long days often lead to nights like these.

Despite his motionless body his mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and memories.

A storm of glass and insults and knuckles white and bloodless and suffocating smells of thick liquor and shoes with steel toes and ribs that can't breathe and he can't breathe and he just, he wants it to STOP. Mercury gasps as his mind implodes; a tear trailing down his cheek.

His hands are clenched tightly by his side and he wishes for a different life.

He slips away to his room with cautious feet praying that the floor wouldn't creak and alert the murderer from his pool of sorrow he was drowning himself in.

The house feels still and speechless; walls trapping all of the terrible things that ever occured within them in. The house was like a box of hell. And the boy lies awake that night with cold eyes, wishing he could burn the world down around him.

* * *

As the hours of the day wear on Mercury wishes he would have slept a little more last night. His father's sparring is harsh and he is panting as the sun mocks him.

How dare it shine so brightly. How dare it oversee all his hurt with a smiling face of warmth.

"Use everything you have. Not just your fists." Marcus instructs as he kicks out at Mercury with swift movements. It's all the child can do to evade the blows as he jumps and dodges. Backing up endlessly as he is constantly pushed into defense. He rolls to the side and is able to kick out at his father, catching his calf.

The man's knee bends slightly but he doesn't fall and Mercury wished he had a little more momentum into his swing. He jumps away from a punch and blocks with his forearm; shielding his face.

A jab to the gut and he's down. The ground feeling like a soft bed as he cradles his stomach.

He feels the presence of the man standing over him, but doesn't have the strength left to stand back up. He knows Marcus is waiting. He doesn't care.

"Pathetic." Marcus grumbles as he walks away. Ending the match right there as disappointment rings in the air. He's sure that it hurts more than when the man is angry and continues on kicking him after he's already down.

Nonetheless his wounds throb against his heart and he remains in the grass.

Every day of training ended the exact same way. The boy stares up at the sky with aching ribs and wonders how hard it might be to just simply snuff out a life. It makes him think of a single match burning in the dark and how just the slightest breath can cause it to shiver and die. Marcus wasn't just a little match though - he was an entire bonfire of flames.

And sometimes those fires only grew bigger when you blew on them.

Mercury finds him later sitting in front of his chess set. He watches from the doorway in curiosity. Something seemed different in how Marcus looked at the board. He held a white queen piece in his hand, rolling her from side to side as if appraising her worth. But, his eyes weren't calculating. They were empty. Defeated. He laid the piece gently on her side next to all the other figures.

He brought a hand to his mouth and shook his head slightly before sighing. The chair screeched as he stood and Mercury quickly ducked back and went back to his studies.

He had just brought his pencil to the paper when Marcus appeared in the doorway. "I've got to go make a few phone calls. But, when I come back - be ready to leave."

Mercury nodded. Heart slowing down slightly. The man walks out the front door with his phone already in hand and he lets out a huff of air as his body relaxes. He combs a hand through his hair and tugs on some silver locks falling into his face. He needs a haircut.

He closes his math book and pulls out an encyclopedia he found on his dad's bookshelf. He didn't read it much but it had lots of illustrations amidst the pages he liked to look at. Animals and plants and gems and dust.

Every day he loses more and more interest in the books his father brought home for him to learn from. Most of the things the books taught were things he was pretty sure he would never have to use in his life.

He had started to realize that he really didn't have any interest in anything. He did whatever his father told him to do and went wherever his father told him to go. He wasn't allowed to be anything else. He felt empty; devoid of everything. Grey.

But once a trickle thought of his father's face dripped into his mind he felt an instant flare of red. Red like his father's shirt. Red like blood. Red like fire.

There wasn't a lot of things he enjoyed in life. He didn't play any games outside of a short chess match with his father every once in a blue and shattered moon. He didn't get the chance to listen to music much. When he did, he found he liked some of the songs by the band Lightish Red Floyd.

He didn't really live. He just merely existed in his father's world.

* * *

"If you want to know a city - ask the rats."

Marcus says idly. He's said it before. And Mercury is sure he'll say it again.

Mercury searches up and down the walls of the alley with skeptic eyes; it was late and the shadows that crept up the crumbling bricks twisted into monsters he would have been afraid of had he been four.

They pass people living under benches and a monkey faunus missing most of his tail. The wound seems to have healed years ago but the hurt in the soft brown eyes are still new and probably will be for many years to come. Mercury tries not to stare and he wonders what it's like to lose a part of yourself.

He wonders a lot of things. He says very little.

Marcus turns the corner and they find themselves facing a man and a fox faunus playing cards on top of a cardboard box. They set their cards down and look at the two open expressions and raised eyebrows.

"Azahar Slate."

The faunus stood and gave a mock bow. "In the flesh."

The duo walked closer to the strangers. Mercury kept careful eyes on each of them. Their clothing was torn and dirty. Their faces weren't much better.

"I was told that you would know where I could find someone."

Marcus kept his voice casual; hands open in front of him. The other man at the table leaned back in his chair to watch whatever transaction was about to take place; cards left spread out across the table. He kept one hand stretched out and tapped the edge of the table mindlessly. His light green eyes contrasted sharply against his dark skin and made him look very wise in his years.

Azahar pursed his lips. His features were narrow and cutting, but his dark green eyes were surprisingly kind. Mercury wondered if it was a front the faunus used to make others trust him easier.

"Well, I suppose that depends on who the someone is."

"Scarlett Heart."

The man at the table jumped slightly in his seat and looked to his friend. The fox didn't show any signs of surprise at the mention of her name; merely tipping his head as if he was trying to think of who she was. It was an obvious show and when Marcus reached in his pocket to produce a small, grey bag that jingled richly he allowed recognition to spread across his face.

A smirk twitched at the corner of his thin lips. "Ah. Scarlet," he took the pouch from Marcus's outstretched hand and wasted no time slipping it into his back pocket. "I hear she's staying at the tavern on 27th and Cedar. About six blocks that way." He pointed his finger towards the exit of the alley.

The faunus glanced down at Mercury for a moment with furrowed brows before looking back to the assassin with a smooth expression.

"You're Marcus Black… aren't you?"

Three heads turned to face the green eyed man as he spoke unexpectedly. His hand was now flat against the table as he leaned towards them in his chair.

"I am."

Mercury glanced up at his father who had narrowed his eyes slightly at the stranger.

The man at the table nodded mutely with a hollow expression.

"I guess that means you and Scarlett won't be conducting... normal business?" The question was quiet and it hung in the air as the three men shared a silent look of acknowledgement.

Azahar blinked a few times. A flash of realization creeping into his expression before he shook it off with a light hearted tone. "Hey, business is business, right?"

His brows were raised high and he shrugged tightly.

The man slumped back in his chair heavily and Mercury saw the grief plainly when they locked eyes.

"Business is business." Marcus repeated with a cold voice and turned to leave. Mercury close behind.

"She's in room 19…" the man suddenly supplied. His following request was spoken hesitantly and with pleading lips. "Make it clean."

Marcus looked back over his shoulder at the stranger and nodded once. "Of course."

"You gentlemen enjoy your evening."

The last words of the assassin parting the strangers followed Mercury in his head for several minutes as they made their way down the streets.

"Who's Scarlett?" Mercury finally spoke. He watched his father's face for little hints of anger and sadness but only found a wall of stone. Not a single emotion could be seen across the hard surface.

"A Woman who gets hired to gather information from certain men and relay it back to her contractors."

"How?"

"She sleeps with them. Gets close to them and they get careless over what they say. They'll tell her anything. It's her semblance; Veracity. She can't flat out force people to tell her the truth if they are really against it. But, she can break their will down just enough that it slips out.

"Recently she uncovered some information on a dirty cop for a government official in Mistral. Probably something involving exposing his black market dealings. So he contacted me. The info can't get to Mistral."

Mercury scrunched his face up in disgust. "She's a prostitute?"

Marcus glared down at his son. "She's a genius. She gets paid twice for one job and never has to deal with avoiding the police. Well, at least not the ones she has black mail on."

They reached the tavern and Marcus sent Mercury inside to find room 19. When Mercury came back out his father was leaning against the wall flipping a knife in his hand. He stood up straight as soon as he saw his son.

It seemed that the pistol in the back of Marcus's jeans would go unused tonight. Marcus tended to play with the weapons he chose before using them.

"It's on the second floor." Mercury walked down the passage that led behind the building and pointed up. "It's that corner window there."

They climbed up the fire shoots quietly. The moon showered silver through the window and Marcus slid his blade under the seal and lifted it up. It made little noise as he opened it up all the way.

"Wait here."

Marcus climbed through the window and walked towards the bed. Mercury obeyed but stuck his head through in interest. As his eyes adjusted to the added darkness of the room he began to make out a soft pale face among the bed sheets. Her long hair was dark brown and fell in gentle curls around her face. Lips red and full. Marcus held his knife up as he approached the beautiful woman. His steps soundless.

Mercury heard a soft gasp and Scarlett tensed up. Marcus froze in place. Knife above her neck and waiting.

"He found out…" She whispered. Voice defeated. Marcus only nodded slowly and Mercury wished he could see his face right now.

"I guess this is it then."

"I'm sorry." He paused as if he didn't know what to say."Business is-"

"Business." She cut him off. "I know. You men like to say that a lot. Though, I suppose it doesn't mean it's not true." She blinked a few times; long dark lashes over plum colored irises. "I promise I won't take it personal."

"You'll be remembered."

"I know."

Mercury flinched and shut his eyes quickly as Marcus brought the knife down; fingers gripping the window pane tightly.

Before leaving for home Marcus orders a shot of hard liquor and downs it quickly. Mercury can only look at the knife in his sheath. Knowing that beneath the leather hides crimson stains of death. How can his father be so confident to walk into a place and order a drink as if he's just like everyone else in the tavern, when there is literally a body growing cold by his hands right up the stairs.

He felt like everyone around him was watching them in judgement. But, looking around at the lonely strangers he realizes that no one even sees them because they are too caught up in their latest cry of self loathing or pity to look up.

Everyone but one man by the back of the bar. Marcus tells Mercury to keep an eye on him just in case, but the stranger just sits there. Mercury starts to wonder if the man was just crazy.

He knows it's going to be a long night. So, when a man follows them out of the bar asking the assassin if he's Marcus Black and holding a wad of cash, Mercury mentally groans. It's going to be a really long night.

Marcus agreed quickly. Two jobs in one town was a win in his book. It was a simple hit too. The man from the bar had lost a game of pool to a guy and owed him three times as much as what he just handed to Marcus. He couldn't come up with the money in time. This was of course the logical solution.

It was less than an hour later and the assassin and his son were standing in the middle of the target's home. The doomed man was on his knees with his hands tied behind him. His head hung low and tears dug tracks down his cheeks.

"Look…" He began again with a hoarse voice. "I don't know what you want from me… I don't know what I did! Just… just tell me and I'll try to make it right!"

Marcus tsked and shook his head from side to side. The look in his eyes scared Mercury and he wondered if it had anything to do with his father's initial contract earlier tonight.

The murderer pulled out his pistol; hands testing the weight of the gun in his palms.

"Please! You don't want to do this! L-look!" He nodded towards Mercury. "You don't want to do this in front of a kid! He can't even be eight years old! He's just a child."

The incorrect guess of his age stung a bit, but he supposed it wasn't the man's fault. This guy was in the middle of a crisis here.

And besides, he was small for his age. He was pretty sure he was almost ten. He wasn't exactly sure when his birthday was, but seasons didn't differ so he kept track of his age that way.

The man let out a shaky sob and Mercury tried not to catch the man's pathetic eyes.

"You can't kill me in front of a child!" desperation bled in his voice.

Marcus nodded slowly and turned towards his son. "You're right."

"Mercury."

Marcus's voice sounded like liquid steel and Mercury turned to him sharply; eyes wide with trepidation.

Marcus held the gun towards his son as a smile played at the corners of his lips. Obediently the boy took it; though his hand trembled like a leaf in a late autumn breeze.

The kneeling man inhaled sharply. "Wha-?" his throat choked up in shock.

Mercury turned towards him. He carefully built up a wall in his features and the fear in his eyes was concealed by a dark curtain of blankness.

"No. No this is- what the hell?!" He fought against the rope around his wrist.

Mercury took a deep breath and raised the gun to his head. Time felt like it was drawn out and his movements were slow. His right eyebrow twitched as he tried to keep up the mask.

He didn't want to do this, but he didn't have a choice.

'_I'm sorry'_

He mouthed to the man before closing his eyes and squeezing his finger. The shot rang out and suddenly his hands were splashed with warm water. He opened his eyes to find crimson staining his hands and a body on the ground in front of him.

That man was dead. He was alive just seconds ago and all it took was for Mercury to pull the trigger to make such a drastic change. He killed someone. He. He wanted a shower.

He looked to his father and was able to hold his gaze for a moment before he broke away and looked down at the floor. Hot tears slid down his cheeks and he opened his mouth with a swing of his head and a low squeak. The cold pistol in his hand felt impossibly heavy and his shoulders slumped. He couldn't hold onto it much longer so he held it out to his father and was glad when he took it without question.

Even though he no longer held the weapon he still felt the weight of it. His chest was tight and breathing was hard; like trying to breath through mud. His arms ached. The floor felt like it had gone soft and he was sinking into the soggy soil beneath his feet.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and he tensed.

"Well done."

Mercury wanted to break down and cry. He wanted to lash out violently and scream at his father until he no longer had a voice. He wanted to turn and run and never stop.

He stood up straight and willed himself to be strong. He couldn't keep being so weak. The shadow crept into his eyes again and he grew numb.

Mercury is nine and his heart is already growing cold. They walk home in familiar silence and the boy is self conscious that someone on the streets will spot the blood coating his hands. But, the sidewalks of their path were empty and he found himself watching his reflection walk beside him in shop windows. Light from street lamps glowing softly as he made out the dark figure in the glass.

The boy who looked back was someone he's never seen before and it scares him. He won't let the fear break through and be revealed to his father. He can't.

He didn't realize how hard it would be to wash the blood off of his hands; he scrubs them and scrubs them until they are red and raw and they are still so dirty.

When he had woken up that morning he hadn't realized that by the end of the day it would feel like years had past.

But, that's how things like that work. The day starts out normal. It's just another day and nothing is worth noting. Until something different happens. Something bad. And just like that in a split second everything changes and the start of that 'normal' day is a fleeting memory of how things used to be.

Mercury had so many life changing days that they felt like levels. Each time a traumatic event happens that alters who he is and how he processes things he loses a part of his soul. And when he looks at his reflection in the glass, it cuts through his heart. He looks like his father.

He hates the image he stares at. Sunken eyes and a permanent frown. Blood is dried in his hair and is matted against his head.

A thought strikes him like a bolt of lightning. He can't remember the last time he smiled. Had he ever smiled?

What was he even doing? He sure as hell wasn't living. If anything he was dying. Day by day and little by little being suffocated by his father. He clenched his hair tightly in his hands and closed his eyes.

He didn't want to live like this.

He didn't have a choice.

Not right now at least.

But day by day and little by little he would get stronger. His soul might be lifeless but his body would be strong. And when it was, he would finally live.

When he opened his eyes and his father's face met him in the mirror he planted a fist in the middle of it. The glass shattered like rain sprinkled with blood.

Glass always ends up covered in blood.

* * *

**Yo! Thank you so much for sticking with thus far! I always think that I'm going to write the chapter long before I have to post it and it never happens cause time is an elusive dastard as I'm sure you are all aware.**

**Plus, you know - The concept of time is a trap.**

**Anyways. I really hope you guys are enjoying the story. I'm not going to rush this one cause I don't want to ruin the quality of it even more than I already do normally... But once this one is all wrapped up I have another one that I am super stoked for and I am currently playing out scenes of it in my head when I'm supposed to be working on this one. Oops. **

** Have a great day. Live your best life. Listen to John Mulaney. **

**Also, here are some of the songs I listened to for writing this chapter. For some reason they just really give me a Merc vibe:**

**Loosing My Religion by R.E.M**

**1979 by Smashing Pumpkins**

**Today by Smashing Pumpkins**

**This Picture by Placebo**

**Hello Operator by White Stripes**

**Pixies by I Bleed**

**Take Me Out by Franz Ferdinand**

**Like A Stone by Audioslave**

**No One Knows by Queens of Stone**

**Paint it, Black by Rolling Stones**

**And that's all she wrote. Peace Out.**


	4. Chapter 4 - The Passed Pawn

**Chapter 4 / The Passed Pawn**

Marcus stood up from the table and abandoned his chess pieces to their current rivalry. His eyes were set hard and he left one last glance to how the players fell on the checkerboard.

With a slow nod he walked out of the room and started towards the closet where his gear was stored. He had been contracted for a hit way out on the other side of the mountains. It was a job that would take at least two days and a part of him was eager to start it.

He hadn't been able to go off on a business venture like this since his son was born. Instead of doing his job he was catering to a mewling infant. The child was an inconvenience for a man of hire and he had been forced to decline many deals. In fact, he was close to turning down this hit… at least until he saw the lien that would be paid and quickly changed his mind.

He just had one little problem to sort out.

A three year old child with only a blue t-shirt sat on the floor next to the couch. His shirt was much too big and hung off of his thin collarbones. The boy was playing with an empty coffee container and a marble. He sat the marble carefully in the bucket before tilting it to the side. Wide eyes lit up as the ball spun around the outer edge of the can; causing a dull rolling sound to twirl around the container. The toddler didn't smile. In fact, he rarely had in his blink of a life. His father never smiled so he didn't have anyone to imitate the gesture and joy was far too rare in the house. But, he was content watching the marble.

"Mercury."

Mercury looked up to see Marcus standing in the doorway to the living room, his hand leaning against the frame. The man had a large bag in his other hand and Mercury knew he would be going somewhere soon. He stilled and attentively lowered his homemade toy onto the floor; his focus now on his father.

"I want you to come into the kitchen for a moment." Marcus disappeared into the other room and Mercury stood to follow. His lips closed in silence only to have his eyes shimmer with all of his mute curiosity.

He hadn't spoken his first word to Marcus yet, then again his father rarely ever spoke to him, and when he did, it was more than often with violence. Despite being selectively speechless he had good comprehension skills and obediently followed any and all instructions he was capable of.

He was starting to recognize the pattern of what happened when he disobeyed.

Curious eyes followed his father to the sink where the assassin held out a small glass of water.

"Are you thirsty?" Marcus's words were flat and he knelt down; resting the bag on the floor by his feet.

Mercury shook his head and twisted his hands in the edge of the dirty shirt that hung a little past his knees. Unsure of what he was supposed to do.

"Drink anyways."

The child furrowed his eyebrows momentarily before nodding and grabbing the offered glass with both of his small hands. He took a few sips before returning it to his father. Marcus set the glass in the sink before turning back to his boy. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

Mercury seemed to think over that one for a moment before nodding. Marcus tilted his head towards their bathroom and Mercury scurried off towards it. He had been potty trained for about six months now. Marcus had little patience with the child and Mercury's punishments were not light. He had learned quickly.

Marcus was almost proud.

It wasn't long before Mercury returned to his father and waited wordlessly to see what Marcus had in store. The child couldn't help but become intrigued when Marcus did something a little different from their normal schedules. The man was meticulous, regulated, methodical.

He wasn't the infamous man he was for show alone. He was a mercenary. Out in the world as well as in his own home.

"Come." Marcus walked slowly across the house until he reached the closet again; he had left the door open when he retrieved his duffle bag. With a slightly tilted head Mercury wondered what his father was doing. Something deep in his bones felt wrong and he sucked on the inside of his cheek.

Marcus grabbed Mercury by the shoulders and he was steered into the tiny room. The assassin spun the boy around so that they were facing each other.

Confusion filled the child's mind and he desperately wanted an answer to the hurricane of emotions. He wanted his father to explain and calm his nerves and make everything okay.

"I have to go away for a little while. But you can wait right here for me, right?" Marcus held his son's eyes and waited for a response. He knew his son understood by now that he would have to respond and he wasn't mistaken as the boy nodded again. Though his eyes were starting to wet with tears from the stress of the situation.

"Good boy." And with that Marcus closed the door and left his child in a tiny yet seemingly infinite world of darkness. The killer hooked the latch over the door and smiled to himself.

'_Problem solved.'_

Marcus headed out to the kitchen to fetch his bag and set off towards his target in a relatively good mood.

Mercury awoke with a gasp. The darkness of the room lighting a fire of fear in his heart that he was back in the closet. The bed under him grounded him and the memories of his dream faded off to a back corner of his mind. He didn't have to be locked up anymore. He was old enough to be trusted by himself if he had to stay home alone.

'_Stupid closet…'_

He sits up in bed and runs a hand through his hair as he pulls his thoughts from getting too tangled up in the memory. In the anger and fear his father threaded into him. His limbs tingled uncomfortably at the stillness of his body and he jumped out of bed with a shiver.

He hated sitting still.

His bedside clock read 4:24 am. He couldn't leave his room yet so he occupied himself by doing pushups and other various workouts. Anything to keep his mind from being lured back into memories of the closet. The tight fear in his chest. The stuffy smell of the air. The-

His body fell against the floor mid situp and he shook his head; bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes before resuming his routine.

A lot had happened over the past year or so. After his first kill he had a few other minor roles here and there for taking out targets. His body count was most certainly higher than most kids his age.

But, despite how he was being raised, he doesn't enjoy killing. At least not like his father does. He likes the power it fills him with. But there's a weight too. A sickening, crushing feeling that he tried not to think about too much.

His father enjoys watching others crumble and suffer. Mercury can tell by the way fire ignites happily in the man's eyes. Like some sort of arsonist watching his greatest masterpieces burn like the sun before him. People scream all around him but he can't be pulled from the beauty of the monstrosity his hands created. He stands close enough to feel the heat wrap around his face.

It's madness. Mercury is sure of it.

As he grows older more tasks are forced on him. More information about contracts. More lethal ways to kill. From skills that actually don't directly involve killing people all the way to flatout murder with bare hands.

Marcus taught him how to pick locks and how to make bombs. Though, he's yet to see one being used in the field, he can tell it would be a nasty way to die.

He is indifferent to all of the new skills he is acquiring; showing neither passion nor out right disinterest.

But, behind the sea of subtle shades of muted greys more colorful thoughts splash. Opinions he keeps to himself guardedly because he knows better than to let them slip out.

He's acquired new scars too. A few were from the grim his father would often send him off to practice against, others were from nights that Marcus didn't even remember, but most were from mishaps during training with his father. Failing to block an attack or stumbling against rocks when they fought in the mountains.

Despite this his combat skills were most definitely improving as he grew stronger and faster. He had yet to win a match against his father, but he had come close to pinning him once or twice.

Mercury would be a liar if he said he didn't count those as victories. He studied the man's technique like a hawk watching a rabbit. Waiting until he found an area of weakness. One spot, one weak link in the chain and he knew he could take the inch to a whole foot. It wasn't easy though. The man didn't have a set pattern as all of his moves were stolen from dozens of others. Great men Marcus had learned from by observing and no doubt besting.

_Murdering_

_**Yeah that's kinda what he does for a living. Remember?**_

His fighting style was unpredictable, but entirely effective.

But, it wasn't hopeless. Because Mercury had watched his father kill what some considered to be the best. Which goes to prove one undeniable fact - everybody makes mistakes.

Marcus would make a mistake.

Marcus left at 6 that morning. He didn't say where he was going, only who he would meet with. Someone by the name of Watts. The name didn't fall foreign on Mercury's ears because he's heard his father talking to him over the phone. But, as for a picture he might as well be the invisible man.

Mercury knew of many that his father spoke of, but he has only met a child's handful in person. Sometimes on the way to a target they would stop and visit with an 'associate' of his father. They almost never have anyone over at their house. He had only seen Marcus invite someone else in on three occasions. Talking about business leads or trading stories. One time it ended with the guest being buried in the forest.

With Marcus's absence Mercury wonders how he would spend his day. He stole some comics the last time they went through a town, but he had already read through them several times. Brightly colored pages heavy with ink creating scenes of superheroes and villains. One of the villains was a mad king who had an interesting taste of fashion and a wickedly drawn grin.

Mercury had quickly decided that he was his favorite character.

Well memorized pages or not, he liked the pictures and decided he would thumb through them again; keeping in mind that he would have to go through the police records his father was having him study.

His father was having him track down files on some Mercenary that became infamous back when his father was young. Marcus watched and learned from him throughout his rise and fall. The Mercenary had become a ghost, a legend. Years and years went by and he had started to believe he was invincible...which of course led to his demise. One little slip up and his entire empire came crumbling down like a crack weaving down his stone walls.

Marcus had watched and learned from the criminal's mistakes. Ensuring he would never repeat the history of others and become a lesson to others.

The comics were in the drawer of his bedside table so he started towards his room; eyes catching on his father's chess table as he passed by. He stopped and creased his dark brows at it. The game was only half played out and his fingers itched to finish the battle. A white pawn stood only a few plays away from reaching it's opposing side. He stuck his hands deep into his pockets to keep himself from the temptation.

His father hadn't talked about a new contract so he didn't know how the pieces would need to be played. And messing up his father's precious little war table was basically a crime against his existence.

A mental image of how pissed the assassin would be at him and a final glance at the board was all it took for Mercury to move on to his original goal; shaking one of the many bad ideas from his head.

He was starting to feel himself become bolder against his father's commands. He had yet to disobey the man, but a snide voice in the echoes of his mind made constant suggestions that would only turn out horrifyingly.

His father would be giving him instructions on a target and a voice would sound out silently.

_What if you punched him square in the face? Right here. Right now._

'_**Yeah. How about I **__**not**__**?'**_

Marcus wouldn't even be raising his voice or treating him cruelly for his thoughts to start trying to urge him to try these suicidal experiments.

Mercury could be cooking supper and it would appear.

_Poison it. Poison it all._

Cleaning weapons.

Walking through steep mountain passes.

Starting the fire place.

Lying in his bed.

It spoke so often Mercury could almost consider it a friend. Or at least, a constant companion asking him a never ending question of _what if?_

The offers were sometimes so tempting to try. To just give in. Listen.

He figures if he was two pennies short of common sense he would act it out. But, he knew better. He knew Marcus. And if the man was a tyrant when Mercury obeyed…

Mercury didn't want to even imagine.

The house felt so big when Marcus was gone. When he's home it feels like it is nothing more than a box with a lid. Four simple walls and nowhere to hide. But, as soon as he leaves it's a vast complex that could go on forever without end. There's so many doors that are painted in mystery and Mercury has only ever seen one side of them.

They weren't locked. Marcus didn't need to lock them to keep Mercury from intruding.

No, his preferred method of security was simple threats that the boy knew as promises. Even if the man wasn't around he knew his father would find out that he went into one of the forbidden rooms somehow.

Still. There was yet to be a rule against Mercury walking up those 15 steps that divided the upstairs from the down. They were wooden and the 4th, 7th and 13th steps squeaked the loudest when you put weight upon them.

The air in the house was suffocating and he wished that he could leave and never return.

Sometimes Mercury would have these thoughts. They were more like a thought of a thought. Like a side tab quietly playing in the background of his mind while he focused on his primary thoughts.

The thoughts mused about a time before him. A time with his mother still alive. He wondered how different the house might have felt once then.

The sky had been painted navy fading to black by the time Mercury heard the front door slam open. The walls trembled as if they were scared of the presence that had just entered and the boy knew that his father had stopped at a tavern before returning home.

He cautiously found himself at the doorway to the kitchen, head down and eyes up as he watched the man stumble forwards before leaning against the counter. He chuckled a bit to himself before slurring out his son's name.

With a moment of hesitation Mercury walked into the kitchen towards his father.

"Yes, sir?"

"Here." Marcus reaches back and removes his sniper rifle. Mercury takes it quickly with creased brows. He hadn't even known his father had taken the rifle with him. Had he been contracted? He mentally slapped himself for not being observant enough. Those were the types of screw ups that would get you killed Marcus would have told him. No, he wouldn't have simply told him… it would have drawn out into a session of Marcus's creativity.

"Go clean it."

Mercury nods and turns to go retrieve the kit so that he can begin his task, but he stops as Marcus mutters something.

"Almost got away." He runs a hand through his white hair before shaking his head from side to side. He huffed a laugh again. "I don't even remember the last… the last time anyone ever got the slip on me… but boy. They were smart. But, not smart enough to fool me."

"W-..." Mercury caught himself and hoped his father was too offset to hear the small crack. He started again. "What happened?"

Marcus stumbled towards the fridge and opened it harsher than normal. Everything within clinked together and a few of the jars on the door threatened to fall out. The boy prayed silently that they would stay in place. The last thing he needed was for one to shatter against the ground and no doubt set his father off in a rage.

Someone somewhere must have heard him because the jars stilled their threats.

"To and fro…. The pendulum… throws…" Marcus mumbles in a low singsong voice as he snatches a beer out. The fridge door is slammed shut in his clumsiness, causing Mercury to flinch back.

"Heh. Watts needed a favor," he stumbles over to the counter and leans against it heavily. "Maybe one day he-... Well he better. I did him a favor." He cracks the tab off on the hard surface letting the small piece of metal clatter across the floor.

Marcus was silent for a moment as he took a swig and slumped his head against his chest. Mercury was about to just leave him right there and clean the rifle when the man spoke again. Voice garbled."Fools."

"They were… they were smugglers. Stupid lowlife scum. But, I don't know how they got their grimy little hands on this stuff. They probably… probably stole… it." He furrowed his eyebrows dumbly at his lost train of thoughts.

"But the stuff they stole. It was some type of mixture I mean the stuff it could do! I couldn't believe it." He was waving his hands in front of his face uncoordinatedly while his eyes burned with what Mercury recognized as want.

The things Marcus could do with power like that was a terrifying thought, but he was certain that the favor didn't permit him to keep any of the dust; only retrieve it. Which was probably for the best. No, it was definitely for the best.

"I had one shot at them. And they almost… they almost slipped my sights. Sly bastards thought that they could get away with it if they had the kid do it. Thought no one would even consider." His words were drawn out in a mocking tone and Mercury stood there processing what his father was saying. His hands suddenly felt dirty as they clutched the weapon.

Marcus shook a finger with squinted eyes. "But, I caught on. They didn't fool me. Five more seconds and they would have been gone. Gone gone gone. Like the freaking wind."

The man chuckled louder this time almost like histeria. And Mercury was sure that in moments like these his father was truly mad. "It was the kid! They had the boy be the mule! Sneaky little rats…" he trailed off with another shake of his head. He sounded proud of himself. As if he had solved a riddle and was about to get a prize. Maybe he felt like he already had.

'_Eternal damnation?'_

Mercury felt like his legs were stuck to the floor as he watched his father stew in his sick and drunken victory. His father had seriously killed a kid. He wondered how old he was. Five seconds. The world couldn't have just given the child five seconds of luck to get clear?

He didn't feel sad, necessarily. It was just… _different. _He had never known his father to kill children, but the more he thought about it the more he understood with a familiar weight that his father saw everyone equally. Equally deserving of death.

Marcus had built a whole universe around himself. And this world was a cruel one. And he made himself god of it.

Mercury found himself moving again. A hollow feeling eating at his gut.

As he set his mind to cleaning the gun he tried to harden his mind and not worry about it. It was over. Done. He couldn't change it. Even if he had been there he would have just been forced to silently watch it play out, or worse - pull the trigger. If that was the case maybe he could have wasted those five seconds. Or simply miss.

But, that would only cause him to take the kid's place. With any luck at all the boy was in a better place now. Hopefully some place where kids weren't being used as mules or shot by mercs.

Mercury dreamed that night about how the hit could have gone down. But, when the shot rang out, he found himself in the boy's place. A target painted red on his back.

* * *

**I know this chapter is crazy late. My life has gotten crazy busy and for a little while I wasn't able to get my computer to work.**

**I worked all summer and got very little sleep. Time did not exist. **

**I'm also taking some online college classes right now, but if I find more time to write I will.  
**

**I hope everyone is doing well. **

**Peace out. **


End file.
